PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue Beverley Bie Brahic, after Leopardi's 'Broom' Michael Freeman Benefytes and Consolacyons Miles Burrows At Madame Zaza’s and other poems Victoria Kenefick Hunger Strike Hilary Davies Haunted by Christ
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 243, Volume 45 Number 1, September - October 2018.

Five Poems Clare Jones
Living fossil

There were days I doubted I’d ever spoken words.
             I saw clawed toads all without tongues.
There was only smoke where the fire was,
             so I sat in whale light. I slept alone.
I found each morning rocks that rose
             like shoulderblades out of the sea:
             a life was a long time
    to be no one’s father, being
                 a shovel in the ground.

When stardust flecked the river stones,
             and leaves like greaseprints smudged the paths,
I looked for signs left behind by birds:
             seeds eaten, broken grass, a line across the lily.
I looked for feathers rubbed off like scales.
             My inner ear staggered at the climb.
             I knew no wind
             would make it through so much:
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image